𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐀 - 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈

SHASHVATA

Mumbling something incomprehensible, she collided with my chest, her soft form nearly slipping to the ground. But before she could fall, I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close, feeling her weight lean into me.

"Did she drink something before this?" I wondered, patting her cheeks gently, searching her face with a growing sense of concern. In a soft but urgent tone, I asked, "Did you drink something, love?"

To my utter shock, which I’m sure left my jaw hanging open in the most ridiculous way, she suddenly screamed, “Gili gili chuuu… main laat maaru aur naali mein gir jaye tu!” She was so serious, yet her words were barely coherent, her voice full of defiant amusement.

I silently thanked Mahadev that the music here was blaring loud enough to drown out her slurred shouts. No one around seemed to notice her giggling and playful stammering, thank heavens.

Scooping her up, I carried her over to the bar and gently set her on the edge of the table. The bartender who had served her drink was nowhere to be seen, and a wave of frustration rolled through me. My jaw clenched as I held her steady with one hand, and with the other, I lifted the glass she’d been drinking from and sniffed. My eyes went wide, fury flaring within them.

There was alcohol in it. Someone had spiked her drink.

I signaled another waiter, my tone low and edged with restrained anger, “What did she order?”

The poor guy looked nervous but managed a calm reply. “Just juice, sir.”

But I already knew. My blood was boiling as I pieced it together. Someone had tampered with her drink.

Without wasting another moment, I scooped her up in my arms again, feeling her nestle closer to me, her head drooping onto my shoulder as I carried her out of the pub. She mumbled something soft and unintelligible, and I brushed a strand of hair away from her face as I settled her into the passenger seat.

Leaning over to buckle her seatbelt, I suddenly felt her small, warm hands cup my cheeks. I froze, surprised by the gentleness in her touch. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, unexpected kiss on my cheek, her voice a whisper as she said, “Bub…”

Her eyes shimmered with a spark I’d never seen before, a glimmer of hope and something that looked almost like love. My heart clenched as I gazed back at her.

I love her.

And as I sat there, hoping against hope, I wished with everything in me that she could feel the same way.

I drove back to the haveli, the silence in the car almost serene. At first, she seemed to be asleep, her lashes resting softly on her cheeks. But then, without warning, she turned to face me, her expression far from the peaceful one she'd had moments before. I kept my eyes on the road, but I couldn’t resist sneaking glances at her, each one revealing her adorably pouting face. She was visibly angry, her brows furrowed and lips pursed in a way that made my heart clench with a strange fondness.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I watched her. Damn, she was cute. With her around, who needs children? She’s already my little one, my kid at heart, who fills every moment with mischief and innocence.

Noticing her persistent pout, I softly called out, “Love? What’s wrong? Do you need something?” My voice was gentle, barely above a whisper, hoping it would soothe whatever storm was brewing within her.

She simply turned her back on me, her face a mixture of hurt and anger. I could hear her mumbling, a mix of muffled words, some clear and others too soft to catch. The frustration in her tone pricked my heart, and I knew I had to do something. I hit the brakes, bringing the car to a halt. I couldn’t drive with this ache in my chest, not while she sat beside me, feeling wronged.